


Craving

by Fierceawakening



Series: Jealousy [3]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Spark Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-10
Updated: 2012-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fierceawakening/pseuds/Fierceawakening
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Megatron spends a night on Cybertron meeting with Shockwave, Starscream becomes suspicious, and decides to get revenge by interfacing with Motormaster. He's sure Megatron will be furious. Which means he'll get an entertaining punishment out of it. But Megatron, as always, is one step ahead of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Craving

"Well, Megatron, I'm here," Starscream announced, flicking his wings in annoyance as he crossed the room.

His Leader had some nerve, taking the space bridge to Cybertron for more than a day. As if his army could wait for him to prattle about nothing with Shockwave! He could easily just comm the purple fool. Unless he was doing something _else_ with Shockwave, but some things just didn't bear thinking about too closely.

Even worse, the tyrannical idiot had come back only to immediately demand attention from those he'd been neglecting. Apparently, he thought it was Starscream's fault he'd had to go a night without him. And possibly make do with that ugly, boring, purple -

He stopped abruptly in front of Megatron's throne, his dark face twisted in disgust.

Megatron, for his part, looked Starscream over and frowned. Starscream's wings twitched again. Could Megatron see? He'd ordered the Constructicons to be particularly painstaking about repairing him this morning. He'd studied the eventual result for any telltale marks or dents or areas they'd forgotten to polish. He hadn't found any, but his processor had still been a bit muzzy from everything that had happened the night before.

And of course, this was Megatron, who always seemed to know, even when no one could possibly have told him where every dent had been. And who, right this very moment, was reaching out a dark hand and running his fingers along a spot on his wing that was still a little sore, and how the hell did the slagger _know these things,_ and oh, that felt _too good_ right now -

"What?" he snapped, tossing his head to clear it. "Don't tell me you called me in here just to _pet_ me."

"Why, Starscream," Megatron laughed, his fingers still dancing along the Seeker's wing, "I never dreamed you would object to that."

"I - I don't - but you -" Starscream stammered. What was Megatron playing at? Had the others just not told him what Motormaster had done?

 _Maybe that's it,_ Starscream thought. _Maybe he has no idea._

He didn't consider it likely, but he grinned all the same. "Why Megatron, have you finally decided to treat me as I'm worthy to be treated, instead of barking abuse and insults to cover up your own shortcomings?" He pressed his wings into Megatron's hands and licked his lips. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Megatron's hand clenched around the Seeker's wing. Starscream tensed, his cooling fans kicking on too loudly as he prepared himself for pain.

It came, though it was mild. Megatron tightened his hand just enough to send the barest shock through Starscream's systems. Still, the Seeker shuddered violently.

That he would have so strong a reaction to so little surprised him. It wasn't like he'd been alone last night.

Motormaster's temper was legendary. While the self-styled King of the Road would never have accepted straightforward advances from any Seeker, much less from Starscream, provoking him to violence was another matter entirely.

Goading him had been ridiculously easy. A few choice comments about how unfortunate it must be to share his vehicle mode with an Autobot were all it took to ignite that simmering rage into an explosion that even Starscream had found impressive.

The blows had vibrated his every circuit, silvering through him like lightning seeking ground. He'd barely heard the stream of insults the bigger Decepticon had hurled at him. The sting in the words had mattered, but what they'd been had not. Not as he buckled and twisted and his sensor net flared with pain upon pain.

It had been crude. It had been completely inelegant, the kind of thing he'd mock Motormaster relentlessly for later, if he was ever willing to admit it had happened at all.

And the Stunticon hadn't even wanted him anyway. Not at first. Not until his core temperature had spiked purely from the exertion and the determination to do more, to crush, to destroy.

Not until Starscream had done the one thing that would bring him up short: opened his chest plates, exposed his spark, and given his assailant the kind of lascivious grin that even he couldn't fail to understand.

It had almost been enough.

The blows had almost forced him back to himself, back to a reality that narrowed to only this, only the force reverberating through him. The energy spearing him as it sped from the other's spark in a torrent of heat and light brilliant enough to sear his spark casing had almost thrilled through him almost brightly enough to make him forget.

It had felt good, shivering half into pieces, rising defiant and sneering for more. _Oh, is that all? I should have known. Do whatever you want, you ugly knockoff of an Autobot. I can take it. I can take anything._

But it hadn't felt like this, dark fingers curling around his wing, slowly - always slowly - always too slowly, and the gasping as he waited and the whir of his cooling fans, too loud, as he waited - and waited - and was finally - he gasped, knowing what was coming, and -

\- the dark hand opened and withdrew.

Starscream's engine sputtered. Like his fans, its noise was too loud. He wasn't sure he cared. "What are you doing?"

Megatron's optics flared once, his hand lingering just out of reach of Starscream's wing. Then he gave Starscream a bland little smile. "I hear you've found someone else for that."

Starscream shrieked. "Someone - someone else?" He sputtered in wordless indignation. After all, he hadn't bothered with anyone else until Megatron had done it first.

Megatron's hand moved to Starscream's cockpit glass, tightening just as it had around his wing, then freezing there. Starscream could feel Megatron's fingers trembling with the effort of holding them still.

"The Constructicons tell me that you needed extensive repairs this morning," Megatron went on, as if his hands weren't shaking. "Why is that?"

Starscream sniffed. "Motormaster is an idiot with a temper and no self-control. He insulted me and the other Seekers. He said that -" He stopped. What had the Stunticon said? He couldn't remember. He hadn't been listening anyway.

Still, he could always improvise. "He said that he was _better_ than we are. Can you imagine? A dirt-kissing abomination that looks and moves and _smells_ just like an Autobot, thinking himself superior to _me_!" He flicked his wings for emphasis, hoping that description would convince his Leader he'd never want anyone so filthy touching him.

"So I fought him," Starscream finished, taking a step closer to Megatron. Megatron was apparently not going to beat him today. There was probably some convoluted, twisted reason for that, some grandiose and foolish plan that made it make sense. And that, of course, made Starscream wary.

Still, he might as well take advantage of it. "That's all," he continued, jabbing a blue finger at Megatron's chest and grinning when he felt its heat.

"You fought him," Megatron said, fixing him with an intense stare. His wings fluttered. That kind of scrutiny was never a good sign.

"Yes." _You know I'm lying. Now lecture me for it and get on with this._

"You fought him, you tell me. And you sustained serious damage, enough that you needed repairs extensive enough for the Constructicons to remark on them."

Starscream nodded, his heels clacking restlessly against the floor. "Yes."

"Am I to understand that you lost?"

Starscream screeched, his engines roaring with indignation. "Lost? _Lost?_ I'd never lose to that dim-sparked oaf -!"

Then his optics widened. "I mean - that is - I - he - _damn it, Megatron!_ " the Seeker wailed, his face close enough now to almost touch his Leader's.

Megatron sat back on his throne, his fingers still moving on Starscream's cockpit glass. His touch was light, and possessive, as if he were caressing something prized but fragile, something that would fall to pieces unless he touched it as softly as he could. Starscream's cooling fans kicked on louder, even as he whimpered again in frustration.

"You - you want me to confess, is that it?" he began. What was Megatron doing? The actions didn't match the words. If the tyrant wanted a confession, why touch him gently enough that he could get away with not making it? It didn't make any sense.

But Megatron was silent. Silent and still. Starscream could feel the air coming from his vents and hear the whir of his cooling fans, but that was the only clue to what he was up to. Starscream twitched again.

"You want me to say that I provoked him?" He laughed, a sharp trill, harsh and mocking. "Oh, I don't think so, Leader. Not when this is your fault! Not when you're the one who suddenly took off for Cybertron and -" He stopped.

The helmeted head tilted. "Suddenly?" His fingers slid over Starscream's glass again, his touch still whispering promises.

Starscream nodded, his optics gleaming red. "Exactly what's gotten into you? First rushing off to see Shockwave like that, and now this!"

The grip tightened. Starscream pressed his lip plates together to hold in a grin. Megatron stared, his optics flaring a bright, piercing red. Starscream stared back.

"Rushing off to see Shockwave? Shockwave is responsible for holding the planet together while we are gone. How precisely is wanting an update on the situation 'rushing off to see him?'"

"Oh, don't give me that," Starscream answered, tossing his head and pulling away ever so slightly. Megatron clenched the glass harder in response. Starscream guessed it was instinctive. That Megatron might not even realize he was doing it.

That was fine with Starscream.

"You had no reason to go to Cybertron," he crowed, the elation he felt zinging through him like high-grade. "You could just as easily have gotten some dull little _report_ from your insipid purple minion through a comm link. But no, you had to go there yourself. As if some dullard we were all glad to leave behind anyway is worthy of - of -" He stopped.

Megatron's optics flared once with anger. Then he smirked. "Of what, exactly?"

Starscream's wings flicked back and forth in agitation. "Oh, I'm sure I don't _know_ what," he said finally, thinking of dark hands tracing along thick purple plating and shuddering, the fuel in his tanks roiling as his faceplates twisted in disgust.

Megatron's fingers scraped along Starscream's cockpit glass, digging deep enough to score angry lines down it. The Seeker sighed in relief, his wings clicking a rapid cadence of need.

It wasn't enough, not now, not here, not when Megatron had spent half their meeting denying him. Not when what he really wanted was to feel himself shatter under his lord's hands, but he wasn't complaining. Vorns of serving under Megatron had taught him how to take pride in small victories.

"Shockwave's duties are extremely important," Megatron said finally, his fingertips still digging hard into Starscream's glass. "He runs a planet in my absence. Do you really think I would do nothing but comm him?"

Starscream thrashed in Megatron's grip. There was another flare of pain as he moved, but Megatron refused to take the bait. Starscream cursed him. Loudly.

"Oh, but you comm him all the time, mighty Megatron. If you insisted on going to Cybertron every time he bothered you with some foolish, nitpicky question, you'd  
never come back here. And although I know very well you're that stupid, it hasn't happened before. So I can only assume you went there to do more than check on how badly our home planet is falling apart."

He shuddered violently. "Though I can't imagine how you could stand to touch that."

Megatron smirked. His cooling fans roared as he spoke again. "Well, there is something to be said for whole-sparked loyalty."

"What?" Starscream shrieked. Had Megatron's fans sped up like that because he was taunting Starscream, or had they sped up like that because he liked what he was remembering? "You mean to tell me you actually -? And - and you _enjoyed_ -?"

"Shockwave has done very well of late," Megatron answered, chuckling. "Or had you forgotten that he finally captured one of those female Autobots who have been breaking in to our energon stores?"

"What?" Starscream howled again. What did those annoying pests have to do with anything? "I - well - of course I knew that! Really, Megatron, do you think I'm totally incompetent?"

"Of course not," Megatron answered, chuckling. "I would never suggest such a thing. But since you were, of course, already aware, then surely you realize that Shockwave deserved a reward for such exemplary service."

His optics gleamed. "And surely you're not surprised to hear that I gave it to him."

Starscream's spark flared hot with rage. He felt a new spike of pain from Megatron's hand, but he'd forgotten to gloat. "But - but I'm the only one who deserves -!"

Megatron's broad frame vibrated with laughter. Starscream seethed.

"Are you, Starscream? Are you, when I can't even leave for a night without you throwing yourself at any mech big enough to damage you?"

Starscream yelped, a white-hot hiss of fury, and wrenched himself away from Megatron. Megatron made no move to stop him. Instead of wondering at it, Starscream sniffed in indignation.

Then he felt familiar fingers along the trailing edge of his wings. Soft, coaxing, as if Megatron had gotten his wires crossed and actually thought he could mollify his Second by touching him gently.

"Stop being ridiculous, Megatron," Starscream pouted, his wing trembling at the touch. "You feel it too."

The hand tightened slowly around Starscream's wing, heavy and irresistible. Starscream's spark whirled in anticipation and dread, sure that Megatron would turn him around and -

"Yes, Starscream," the voice behind him rasped, soft under the roar of the tyrant's fans. "I feel it too."

Starscream's engine stalled. "You - you do? Then why don't you -?"

The dark hand opened again. Starscream sighed in frustration as he felt the pressure ease.

"Because unlike you, Starscream, I actually have some self-control."

Starscream twisted to look over his shoulder. "So what do you want? An apology? A confession? If you think I really wanted Motormaster, you're insane."

It wasn't true, not strictly. He had wanted Motormaster. He had enjoyed the big brute, the simplicity of being torn apart and pushed from nothing into overload. It was certainly better than this, this endless guessing, these little puzzles whose solutions he was supposed to stop and find, when all he wanted was flame and destruction, searing and exalting and remaking him all at once.

Was that what Megatron had done with - with Shockwave? Had he given the big purple fool what he was denying Starscream now? Was that the point?

Or maybe he'd done _this_. Maybe he'd played these little games with a damned yes-mech who delighted in reasoning out their solutions. Maybe that was why Megatron was doing this now, was treating Starscream as if he could bother with any of this slag when he could hardly think at all because he needed -

He turned. "Megatron."

A knowing little grin answered him. "Yes, Starscream?"

The Seeker lowered himself to his knees, not bothering to keep his voice from cracking. "Hurt me. Please. This - this is driving me crazy. I -"

What could he say? That he didn't want anyone else? That wasn't true, and Megatron would know it. That it wasn't the same? Of course it wasn't, but to confess it would mean to make himself weak in front of Megatron. And he knew his Leader well enough to know that that would disgust him.

Which was only right. Megatron wanted warriors, not fawning little sycophants. Even if he did, apparently, enjoy indulging one of them now and then.

Starscream reached out and took Megatron's arm. Megatron let him, and he fought not to shiver as he straightened it and stared unflinchingly at the cannon now pointed directly at his face.

"My - my lord," Starscream murmured, the pent-up energy swirling through his spark now crackling through him. He wrapped his hand around the cannon, less to seduce the other and more to steady himself, as he leaned in to lick the sensitive metal of the barrel.

Megatron's hand was at his back now, digging into his plating, and Starscream felt as if the touch lit his whole sensor net at once. He could hear the steady hum of Megatron's weapons systems, half-powered, and feel the metal under his lips heat up as they charged.

Megatron was trembling, too, almost as badly as he was, and Starscream could sense how much effort it took him to keep his weapons systems from roaring fully to life. He moaned into the inside of the barrel as he licked, its heat singeing his lips.

A dark hand wrapped around the Seeker's head, and for a wild, panicked moment he thought Megatron really was going to hold him there, pressing his face against the metal as those deadly weapons systems rocketed to full power.

Then the other twisted his head away with a vicious, decisive movement. "Enough," he rasped, letting go of Starscream's head.

The Seeker's neck cabling ached from the rough handling. Gritting his dental plates, he forced himself to look up. He'd asked for this. Now he would endure it with pride.

Megatron reached down toward Starscream's glass and grabbed it. Starscream thought for a moment of Motormaster, his rage, his complete and utter lack of finesse. His spark pulsed hard in its casing. He'd played this game well, well enough to crack even Megatron's resolve.

 _How does it feel, mighty Megatron?_ he sneered. _How does it feel to need this as badly as I do?_

Megatron's faceplates twisted in determined concentration as he squeezed. Starscream shivered. He'd seen that expression before. He'd never see it on Motormaster's broad face. Or anyone else's.

The Seeker keened, a high, wordless wail, as he felt his glass buckle under his lord's relentless hand.

Then he broke, howling his relief as that hand splintered him, invading everything he was, leaving no part of him untouched. His internal diagnostics blared alarms, a symphony of shock and welcome, and his spark pulsed so hard his chest plates flew apart just to keep it from searing its own housing.

Megatron stared, his optics widening. Then he laughed. Starscream had no time for indignation. He stared, transfixed by a thin line of light peeking forth from Megatron's chest. Starscream knew what that meant, knew that the other was also eager to open, to expose his own spark, overfull and spinning with craving of its own.

But Megatron only let go, shaking shards of glass out of his hand, and reached to grab both of Starscream's wings, twisting at the ailerons until they came loose and then not stopping, moving down to the body of his wings and twisting, hard and harder and then harder still, until they creaked and dented and white-hot agony flared so hard through Starscream that his vision went white and he overloaded, stunned, amazed that such a thing could happen at all.

When the white fuzz in front of his optics cleared, Megatron's hands were barely brushing the twisted wings, as if somehow in awe of what they'd done. The silver faceplates wore their customary smirk, but Starscream knew that Megatron was just as surprised as he had been. He staggered to his feet, his damaged glass and wings sending shivers of sensation through him.

He twitched his wings, half to feel more and half to show Megatron just how much he could survive. "I'll be going now, since your little game is over," he said, his smirk matching his Leader's.

Then he found himself howling again, pain bursting through him as something heavy and unstoppable collided with him, driving him into the wall behind him so hard he felt it crack around him.

There was a thud and a flare of blinding light. He tossed his head, frightened, disoriented, not knowing what was happening, until he finally recognized the light as his Leader's spark, exposed, lightning crackling all around it as it sought, blindly, to reach him.

"Did you think I was finished with you, Starscream?" he rasped, air cycling heavily through his vents.

Then the bolt of energy tore free from his spark, so fast it had to hurt, had to be searing him too, uprooting all the energy stored in his systems and flooding the spark in front of him.

Starscream thrashed, hissing and wailing. He'd already overloaded, and this flood was too much, too much, even for him, a bolt of lightning and flame cleaving him in two. It was pleasure and pain and dissolution, a scouring light blazing through every part of him, and he could do nothing but receive it, pinned and frozen as much by its force as by the broad frame pressing him into the wall.

Then, _more_ , sending his limbs dancing, a jangling mass of metal completely out of his control as the energy roaring free of his lord inundated him, flooding every part of him just as those shattering hands had broken all of him before.

He would not have called what happened next an overload. He would not have called it anything at all. He heard the roar of Megatron's pleasure and felt it, too, a lance of fire through the bond between their sparks. He shuddered with it, blinded by it, screeching in despair and welcome, and his world went white again.

###

When his vision cleared, he felt something, darts of bright electricity through his wings. He murmured, pleased. Was he... hurt? He must be, must have been, and this must be the aftermath, the kind of lazy satiation that made anything thrill through his sensor net.

A face smirked down at him, its red optics bright.

" _Now_ you may leave," it said.


End file.
